


Something Wicked

by Jamaican Princess (Rocquellan)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Non Consensual, Original Character(s), Possession, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocquellan/pseuds/Jamaican%20Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their father leaves them in Salt Lake City, Utah to investigate a case on his own elsewhere, Dean and Sam stumble across random people sexually assaulting family members before dying of a heart attack. Naturally they investigate, but is the price too high for Sam to pay when he's the next target?</p><p>Warnings inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Warning/content:  
> bottom!Sam/top!Dean  
> Sam-16yo/ Dean-20yo  
> This fic contains Dean getting sexually assaulted by Sam while Sam is possessed and the non graphic details of a fictional 11yo getting molested by a family member. 
> 
> Proceed with caution.
> 
> I do not have a beta and wouldn't mind one to help improve this fic. Concrit would be greatly welcomed. All mistakes are my own.

Sam stares at the book he’s reading from on the couch of the motel their dad had left them in a day before in Salt Lake City, Utah, while his brother surfs through what is probably his 100th channel on the old set before them on a worn wooden table.

The book, Mornings on Horseback, by David McCullough was an interesting read for Sam until Dean decides he’s suddenly tone deaf and colour blind, turning up the tv set to volumes grating on Sam’s nerves. Sam frowns as he glares down at the blurry words of the two hundredth page of his read. “Dean...”

There is no answer, but Dean’s leg bounces once and his left fingers makes an unconscious tap from their perch on his brother’s left, jean clad leg. The noise raises an octave in volume. “Dean...”

 Still being ignored, Sam glares at Dean before he gets up and storm towards the TV...right when a pair of lesbians are busy making out on a wooden bench in what appears to be a deserted park - in clothes, mind you, because the movie seems to be some R rated stuff – and he turns it off just as Dean’s indignant shout reaches his ears.

“Hey! I was watching that, Sammy.”

Sam doesn’t move, even as Dean extends the remote and jab at the power button a few times with too much force. “No, you’re not. You’re distracting me with the noise, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes and purses in lips in that way he usually does when irritated. “Two hot chicks are making out Sam, you _do not_ want to stand in my way since there’s no porn channel in this dump. Why don’t you go read in our room, book-worm?”

Feeling indignant, Sam shoots back. “Yeah? Why don’t you create your own porn if that’s what you want so bad and stop distracting me?”

Sam regrets –not really- that line as soon as it comes out of his mouth. He shifts in anticipation as the look in Dean’s eyes transform from mild annoyance to something downright dirty. He watches as Dean stands and approaches him.

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day, Sammy.”

The words are salacious and Sam doesn’t resist or protest when Dean grabs his arm and pulls him flush against his body before palming his ass cheeks and grinding his clothed hard-on into his own forming one. They kiss passionately and there’s a bit of hesitancy, something only easily noticeable to Sam because he knows _everything_ about his brother and it makes him feel a bit peeved.

Sam grabs one of Dean’s hand and guide it to his junk, palming the bulging flesh in tandem. Sam looks into his brother’s eyes.  “Dean, I want this, you’re not forcing me, ok? Never have and never will.”

Sam’s voice is low and smooth; firm, and Dean really looks at Sam and see that he wants this. He’s not, for some reason, pressuring his underage brother into sex. The thought pops up every time they are to do this like a festering wound on his self esteem. What kind of brother is he anyway to even allow this?

“Dean, please don’t do this now.” Sam kisses Dean hard and fierce, taking what he wants before Dean closes himself off.

Dean’s building anxiety lessens a little bit because he wants this just as much and with the way Sam is behaving, he’d be a bigger ass for not giving his Sammy what he wants. “Fine, put that mouth to better use.”

“Dean...” Sam moans as his brother kisses him, eager and hungry. He wraps both hands around Dean’s neck and holds on. They are nearly on the same level now in terms of height and when Dean hefts him up for him to wrap both legs around his brother’s waist, it isn’t as easy a task as it was before if Dean’s slight tip to the back before he regains his balance is anything to go by. But Sam keeps kissing, tasting and wanting his brother as much as the first time a year ago, his need never dimming.

Their Dad had left a few hours before but Dean was still too conscious to do anything with Sam until he was positive the man wouldn’t be coming back for a long while. Even now Dean still had reservations about the physical aspect of their relationship, but Sam’s become an expert in using Dean’s weakness against him; mainly his ass.

Their dad had promised to be back in the next seven days at least from a case in Colorado of something killing teenagers and healthy young men (and he swore he would never put them in danger when the risks greatly outweighed the need to keep them close), so they had lots of time to spare from the man’s instruction _–Stay put, that’s an order--_. Sam was the one to protest and try to reason with their father that he would need their help, but he’d basically ordered them both to just shut it, and then proceed to tell them with a smile that he wouldn’t be alone. He was expecting Bobby and Caleb to tag along and Sam could feel some form of relief because he knew his father was in very capable hands.

But back to the matter at hand...when they finally reach the bed, still kissing and breathing in each other, Dean didn’t let him go, only held on to Sam even as he fell on his back with Sam straddling him. They fumbled with each other’s clothes until their shirts, pants and then underwear were gone.

Sam gasps when Dean grabs his dick and expertly stroked while the other hand comes up to fist in his hair on the right side. His mouth opens as he breaths and moans, thinking to himself _‘ohmygod, ohmygod_ ohmygod!’ and how good Dean feels all over him.

“Yeah, Sam. Love when I use m’ hand on you like this?”

Sam only moans out his response, not coherent enough under Dean’s dexterous hands to form words. Dean’s eyes are hazy with lust and his own dick hard and Sam fumbles for the hot flesh between them to return some pleasure to his big brother, but Dean slaps his hand away before grabbing both their cocks and fisting them, squeezing and rubbing together their hot, slick and well engorged flesh.

Sam’s back arches. “Oh God, Dean...” And Sam feels the pleasure only his big brother is ever able to give him to fry his nerve endings and short is brain or something. They kiss long and hard and breathy and Sam makes his need to be screwed very vocal.

Dean grins and rolls them over so Sam’s on his back. “Anything for you, Sammy.”

The prep work was hurried, but very thorough and by the time Sam is pulling his legs back to expose his ass so his brother can hit a home run, he is throwing his head back and clawing at the sheets through the small amount of pain and immense pleasure it brings him.

“Oh fuck, so good, Sammy...So fucking _tight_.”

“Harder Dean,” Sam moans, even as the force of Dean’s thrusts keeps pushing him towards the edge of their shared bed. He watches his brother’s muscles flex, his face; his eyes that never lie and his lips; moist, sweet and a tempting swell of a taste so uniquely Dean –and sometimes that taste is mixed with Sam’s come if Dean was generous enough to make Sam sit on his face or give him head-.

“Fuck, Sam. Just _fuck_!” Dean groans and Sam knows how he feels, would have said the same thing if their vocabulary was in the same consortium.

“Yes, oh god _yes_...” Sam cries out as Dean fucks into him harder, pummelling his ass with the force of his impending release, just like Sam likes it. He bites into a pillow to stifle his voice because the walls are thin and they’ve been around long enough for the neighbours on both sides to know their voices and the bed is squeaking, but who cares about that part?

“Gonna fill your ass, Sam. Ugh, make you taste m’ come all the way up in your _god-damn_ throat,” Dean growls and that’s the catalyst for Sam. His eyes roll back in his head and he’s releasing hot sticky spunk between their stomachs. Sam’s moan/groan of pleasure is long and drawn out while his body goes whipcord tight before it snaps boneless on the mattress.

Sam clenches around Dean and Dean does nothing more than grab Sam’s legs, throw them way back and wide and just fucks into him like his life depends on it when he comes. He leaves his brother’s ass sloppy and wet and pulls out to roll to the side, both of their breathing laboured gasps.

Sam turns to look at Dean. “Hey Dean?”

Dean runs a hand softly through Sam’s hair while his brother turns on his side to regard him. “Yeah, baby boy?”

“I want to go again.”

Dean smirks devilishly before giving Sammy _exactly_ what he wants.

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

Dean goes down to the diner two blocks from the motel the next morning to buy him and Sam coffee and breakfast. He’s more than a little happy because right now Sam’s all jacked up on his jizz and the runts still in bed sleeping off his sore ass. Dean loves when he can outlast Sam because the guy is a hound in bed and sadly, the task is not an easy feat even with Dean’s awesome libido. So yeah, he’s feeling especially good when he asks Marlene for a ‘cup o’ joe’.

“Coming right up sweety!” The middle-age woman gives him a smile as she go places his order and pour the cup.  “And pie, want a slice of pie!”

“Blueberry or apple?” Marlene asks while she pours the coffee.

“Apple,” Dean answers.

“Here you are cutey, enjoy your breakfast,” Marlene smiles after handing Dean his things.

“Thanks sweetheart.” Dean smiles right back smoothly and take the first sip of a coffee worthy of a medal for tasting so good coming from a diner coffee machine. Marlene smiles shyly and shakes her head before walking away. He heads out and after turning on the pavement, narrowly misses a kid barrelling towards him.

“Hey!” Dean shouts before holding his hands with the bag up not to drop them. He only shifts minutely as the kid grabs him around the middle to stop himself from falling, smiling up with bright brown eyes and then taking off like none of that had just happened. Shaking his head and chuckling, he then head down the street with his paper bags and use the key to open their front door before making sure the salt line isn’t broken, kicking off his shoes and then heading to the room where Sam is still sprawled on his stomach with a pillow sandwiching his hands and head with his bangs ruffled in a sleepy mess.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!”

Sam groans at the noise, shifts and then open bleary eyes to look at Dean crossly. “Dude, you’re such a _loud_ pig.”

Dean smirks while he pulls the food from the bags and hands Sam his something-another with salad in it. “Getting the best fuck of your young life doesn’t entitle you to sleeping in, baby boy. Now eat and get your ass moving, we’ve got something to check out.”

Dean takes a bite into his burger –with bacon because it’s a breakfast item- before throwing Sam the morning paper.

Twelve minutes later, Sam downs the last of his coffee and looks from the newspaper to Dean, who scarves down his pie in under a minute. “I don’t get it, why would a guy rape his wife, mother and sister before wandering off and dying of a heart attack? I know people can be evil but that’s a bit over the top.”

Dean swallows and drinks the last of his coffee noisily. “That’s what I’m thinking. Think it’s a case? The address is three blocks from here.”

“It’s possible he could just be a evil son of a bitch, but lets check it out just in case.” Sam twists and moves so he can get off the right side of the bed because the left has left over coffee and sandwich containers belonging to both him and his brother. “Yeah, we should definitely check it out.”

Dean’s left eyebrow raises surreptitiously as the sheet falls from Sam’s body to expose long, sexy legs, soft skin –in the places not marked by claws or bruises or stitches- and a body so fit he’s hard before he even realises it. There’s a spike in his cock from the sight of dried come on the inside of his brother’s thigh and legs that he definitely remembers leaving there as Sam walks to the bathroom.

Dean swallows as the urge creeps up his legs, pass through his cock, slither through his spine and settles in his brain. “Sam, let’s fuck.”

Sam bolts for the bathroom and lock the door with the lock before Dean can grab on to him.

Dean beats against the door in frustration when Sam manages to slip away. “Sam, open the damn door.”

“Fuck off, Dean. If we’re going to look into this possible case I can’t do it with your dick up my ass. Now, go away.”

Dean sighs as Sam’s bitch-face is echoed in his tone of voice, but he lays off because Sam is right. He steps away from the door. “Alright, let’s blow this joint and see what’s up. Hurry it up in there, dude, I smell like your scrawny ass.”

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

Sam gives Mrs. Anderson, who’s sitting in the recovery ward of the LSD Hospital on 9th Avenue, a puppy dog look that ‘normal’ people usually read as sympathy and maybe something genuinely innocent.

“It’s alright, I just hate going over the details. Just thinking about it makes me...”

The woman shudders and Sam smiles sadly at her. “I’m sorry about this, Mrs. Anderson, but we need to know for our report at the States Office to find out if your husband was involved with the wrong people.”

The middle age woman with short blonde hair and weary, sad brown eyes looks at them suddenly, hopefully.  “You think he might have done this because of someone else?” –Asking as if any rhyme or reason for such a sordid act would be justifiable...and maybe, not entirely her husband’s fault-.

Dean is the one that answers this time. “We’re not sure, that’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Did you by any chance notice anything you’d categorize as strange? Maybe the room was cold or you smelled something like sulphur?” Sam prods gently.

The woman shakes her head. “No. But, for some reason I thought he looked...”

“How?” Sam asks, voice low and non-threatening in a way Dean’s can never be, which is why Sam does interviews and Dean covers interrogations.

“Well, um...” and the woman fidgets restlessly. “We were all in the same room...at the time and when he was done with me, I realized that he seemed happy, maybe sort of content with what he was doing and I found it mighty disturbing. No remorse or guilt or, or...it’s like he wasn’t the least bit bothered by it no matter who he was...”

The woman shudders and Sam smiles gently. “That’s alright, Mrs. Anderson, thank you for the information.”

Mrs Anderson nods, not looking at them and playing with her IV line in a nervous gesture.

Fifteen minutes later, the two walk out to the yellow Toyota Celica registered under Alexis Barlowe _–because Dean really wanted the Impala but dad said no-_ and get in, pull away from the curb and decide to head back to their apartment complex not far from Downtown, Salt Lake City. Sam goes over the page he’d written down Mrs. Anderson’s information on and sighs.

“So in other words, we got jack squat from the wife.”

It was a statement from Dean and Sam agrees. “Yeah, other than him having what she describes as a ‘happy and content’ look, there’s nothing to go on.”

“Just awesome,” Dean mutters. “Looks like a bust.”

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

The next morning, Sam is the one to get breakfast because Dean sometimes have these random burst of lethargy that just makes him hog the bed and bitch if Sam so much as a breathe a word in his direction. So Sam goes down to the diner and orders a salad wrap and a double burger for Dean and two cups of coffee. He would have tried to force some vegetables on his brother if it wasn’t for the fact that it makes Dean sick to his stomach. Literally. Anything leafy and green gives Dean cramps and make him blow chunks like a tennis ball machine and there wouldn’t be enough Air Wick to cover up the stench of _that_.

While waiting on his order, Sam takes stock of the little kid, a boy around nine or ten years old with dirty blond hair and a mean scowl, who sidles up beside him on the diner’s stool at the counter. Something compels Sam to find out what’s wrong with the boy. “Hey, kid, you alright?”

The boy looks up with a forlorn gaze, hesitates, and then holds down his head before mumbling. “My older brother doesn’t want to play with me anymore.”

Sam looks up stiffly before gazing back down to the hunched shoulders and downed head. He knows exactly how the kid feels. “Look, I know you’re older brother...”

“Sean, and I’m Michael.”

“Michael. I’m Sam....Sean, might seem like a meanie right now but I promise he’s not.”

The kid stares up at him suspiciously. “Yeah, how d’ you know?”

Sam scoffs. “Because I have an older brother too and believe me when I tell you, they’re suppose to cause you headaches.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because he cares for you and he’ll look after you and make sure you’re safe even when you don’t know your doing something to harm yourself, maybe.” And somehow, admitting that out loud makes a surge of pride slide through him on Dean’s behalf. His big brother is awesome, even if he’d never admit it to the guy’s face to over-inflate his already over-inflated ego.

The kid doesn’t look entirely convinced, but Sam can see he’s making some headway in the little melon head.

“But...”

Sam turns to face the kid fully. “No buts. You know Sean loves you despite acting like a jerk sometimes, right?”

The kid fidgets. “Well, yeah... I know. But he spends so much time with dad sometimes it makes me not happy.”

“Ever the faithful soldier, huh?” Sam half smiles, remembering his brother’s blind faith in their father even if he doesn’t like it too much himself. But Sam is happy for that little confirmation, because to be honest, he didn’t make a habit of judging sibling dynamics by his and Dean’s standards. He knows enough to know that even humans, family especially, are sometimes worse than the things that go bump in the night. But aside from that, even though he tries to hide it, Sam can tell Michael is smiling. “And wherever he goes he always comes back to you, doesn’t he? Even when it’s with his dad?”

Michael is looking up at him with recognition dawning in his blue eyes. “Yeah, he does! Thanks Sam.”

Sam pats Michael’s head when the kid hugs him around the middle tightly before taking off. He watches him go with a mirthful chuckle.

“Cute kid,” the waitress smiles after putting his bags on the counter before him and Sam agrees, pays, collects his food and then head back to the motel a moment later.

Later that evening, while the boys are out in the woods behind the motel sparring, they over-hear the gossip mill (noisy neighbours) talking about another man who molested his brother and his wife before his body was discovered a moment ago by police in an abandoned building, dead from a heart attack. They stop in the middle of an averted foot sweep to each catch their breaths and take in the news.

“Well, there’s goes the neighbourhood,” Dean mutters.

Sam takes a sip from a bottle of water before nodding his head towards the motel. “Well, at least we know this is a case. We should call dad and make him know we’ll be busy here, just in case.”

“Yeah, he hadn’t called once since he left.” They start to head back.

Sam can make out the hint of uncertainty in Dean’s voice, because most times their father checks up on them at least once to know they’re alright. Dean makes sure the salt line at the door isn’t broken and Sam steps in after him. They both begin to undress from their sweaty clothes and after showering, Dean is the one who tries to reach their father.

_“We’re sorry, the number you are trying is currently unavailable. Id...”_

“Just fucking awesome!.”

Sam picks on the sarcasm in Dean’s voice. “Can’t reach him?”

“No.”

Sam doesn’t care too much about that, he’s too use to his father not being there. As long as he has Dean, then everything is alright as far as he’s concern. He doesn’t voice his opinion though, because Dean obviously cares and he doesn’t want to upset his brother further. “Let’s work on finding out what’s happening here in the meantime. Maybe we can stop another family from going through this tragedy.”

“Fine.” Dean sighs. “Let’s shower together since we can’t do anything now anyway. Cops are probably canvassing the witnesses and the area. We’ll head down there in an hour.”

“Fine.” Sam agrees, and he knows it won’t take them an hour to bathe and get ready but Dean’s adrenaline works overtime whenever they’re on a job or works out and he knows getting laid right now would make his Dean a hell of a lot less cranky. He doesn’t protests when Dean jacks him up after preliminaries in the shower, making good on eating him out while fisting his cock and he comes with an ear shattering shudder and a drawn out moan.

“God, so sexy, gonna fuck you so good, Sammy.”

Sam hangs on to the shower curtain weakly with one hand and the edge of the little window on the other side with his next and wrap both legs around Dean’s waist while his brother fucks into him with the grace of a wild bronco.

“...love bending you over and sticking m’ tongue all up in there, Sammy. You trembling, so weak in the knees for me....yeah, fuck my dick, baby...”

Dean hisses, eyes a dark green haze of unadulterated lust. His lips are kiss bruised and plump, his face beautiful like this. His body is scorching hot.

Sam gets off on the dirty talk as much as he does his dick rubbing between them because everything Dean says and does is a huge turn on. His prostate gets properly taken care of by the thick, bulbous head of Dean’s cock and he shoves himself down as hard as he can go, wanting it all. Their kiss, in counterpoint to their coupling is sweet and erotic, like Dean wants one part love-making and one part dirty fucking.

Sam’s body tense. “Ugh, Dean, gonna come...”

“Yeah, love when I open you up like this, don’t you?”

“Fuck.” Sam closes his eyes and tense when Dean suck on his right nipple and it sends him over the edge so fast he’s reeling.

When Dean feels Sam clench around him, it triggers a monumental coming so intense his senses temporarily goes offline and the euphoria threatens to drown him under its pressure. His fingers dig deep into Sam’s thighs and he knows he’ll see bruises there later, but for now he holds on like his life depends on it –and maybe Sam’s safety does because he doesn’t want to drop him.

A moment later they’re both panting harshly and Dean lowers Sam to the tub gently, mindful of his wobbly legs and stiff arms. He tilts his face up and looks into his soft hazel eyes. “You ok, Sammy?”

Sam sighs breathlessly. “Yeah, m’ good.”

They kiss passionately before Dean turns the water on high, washing the evidence of his and his Sammy passion away.

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

Sam and Dean goes back to the hospital in their State Police uniform and questions Jonathon Walker, the brother who was raped earlier.

“So Mr. Walker, anything stand out in your mind about how your brother looked, anything strange?” Dean starts, standing behind Sam who is seated in a chair beside the bed.

Jonathon, a twenty five year old Utah native with brown hair and green eyes shakes his head. “No, I mean, he...”

Sam smiles when the man pauses. “I know this is rough but we need to know what happened. Maybe he was under the influence of something?”

Jonathan bristles at that. “No, no, Mark wasn’t taking any drugs, I’d know.”

Dean’s eyes set in a calculating look at that. There was just something...

“Did you, by any chance, feel the room get cold or smell sulphur?” Sam asks and the look of incredulity on the man’s face doesn’t surprise him. “Humor us.”

“No, nothing like that...well, except...” Jonathon frowns.

“Yeah...?” Sam prods.

“For some reason he seemed really happy. Horny and happy.”

“Well, he molested you, did he maybe have any boyfriends we could talk to...?” Dean asks.

“No, no way, he’d never do that. Mark was devoted to his family so...no.” Jonathon couldn’t look the two men in the eyes.

Sam was about to open his mouth but Dean cut him off.

“What does he having a boyfriend have to do with his family, which is only you, if I’m not mistaken?”

Jonathon hugs himself close and rock back gently, obviously agitated and more than a little fearful. “Um, nothing, it’s got nothing...”

Sam suddenly understands where his brother is heading.

“Mr. Walker, were you by any chance, you know, bumping uglys with your brother?”

The man didn’t look nearly half as scandalized as he should at the question, but his fear rose in spades, Sam observes. He decides to do damage control. “Look, we’re not here to pass judgement on what you do with your brother, - _because really, we’re the last persons to judge_ _on_ that- we just want to find out what happened, _that’s_ all.”

Jonathon gives them a tentative look, but cave slowly after when he realizes there is no scorn, hatred or malice on either of their faces. “Ok, um, once or twice we’ll fool around. I love Sandy though, don’t think I don’t.”

Sam scribbles in his notebook. “But you love your brother a lot, and somewhere along the way it became physical. I understand.”

Dean realizes that Sam’s smile and understanding words makes Jonathon a lot more relaxed, even if he is still guarded.

“Yeah, we just, you know...grew up together by ourselves and didn’t know we shouldn’t have...done... stuff and by the time we realized it was too late to stop.”

“Yeah,” Dean grunts. He knows all too well. Sam is sixteen for fuck’s sake. Now he’s reminded of the outside world’s view on their relationship and what it would mean if it ever got out, especially to their dad which is something he does _not_ consider an option. It’s just so easy to get lost in the little bubble of Sammy and his need to be the alpha and his brother’s provider and forget about all the other shit going on in his life. This _–them-_ together makes Sammy happy and that in turn makes Dean a lot of fucking happy. He’ll banish the thinking of corruption later when he’s buried in Sam’s ass so deep he can’t think.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Walker.” Sam nods then stands.

“Just find out why this happened.” Under his breath the man sobs. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Fifteen minutes later, after visiting another patient they’d over-looked the day before, the two leave the hospital with more questions than answers.

Sam looks over at Dean puzzled. “Ok, so Mr. Anderson was screwing his mother...”

“Gag me with a fucking spoon, will ya?”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe I will. Anyway, the only recurring theme here is incest. I mean, none of these people knew each other and they have absolutely nothing in common. Wanna go check out the bodies?”

“Yeah, get cracking cause this shit is crazy right now.”

Sam pauses with his hand on the passenger door handle of their rental car. “Wanna tell me what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

Dean rolls his eyes before getting behind the wheel. He sits there until Sam’s strapped in. “Don’t you feel a little queasy about this case?”

“No, why?”

“You know, incest? We’re the poster boys for sibling incest, ain’t we?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Sure we are, and that’s not going to make us _not_ poster boys, right? Let’s get down to the morgue and then head back to the motel so I can try to find out what we’re dealing with.”

“Huh.”Dean shrugs. He starts the ignition. “I’ll try dad again later.”

The morgue doesn’t yield any solid results and Dean takes Sam back to the motel.

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

Later on that day, Sam can’t help but notice that there’s a new set of people, a family of three, moving into the motel room besides theirs. He didn’t give it much thought, because this is a motel, until he saw a familiar face run up to the door from behind a Volvo parked near their rental.

Michael spots him, stops and run right into his arms with a loud, “Sam!”

Sam laughs. “Hey, buddy, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

Sam allows the jovial little boy to pull him in front of the door next to his, where a middle aged man holding a travel bag and another boy with a carry-on case, maybe thirteen or fourteen with a sullen look, stands and watches him warily.

“Dad, Sean, this is Sam!”

“Yeah, buddy, I realize,” Michael’s father answers. He holds out his hand in a shake and Sam takes it, feeling a sort of tingle run up his spine at the touch. “I’m Max, by the way. This is my other son, Sean.”

Sean only grunts out a response before walking away to disappear inside the room.

Sam watches Sean, sees the dejection and resignation and his uneasy sensation returns.

Max lets go and then turn to Michael. “It’ll be dark soon, son. Let’s go inside.”

Max then walks away and Michael turns to Sam. “Hey, Sam, can we play again later? You’re next door, right?”

Sam nods as Michael glances briefly at his room door. “Yeah, ok.”

Michael’s face lights up. “Cool! As soon as dad puts Sean to bed I’ll knock on the wall and you can come.”

“Yeah, um. Ask your dad first though. I’m sure he doesn’t want you outside alone...with me _–since he doesn’t know me-_ at night.”

“Ok, bye Sam!”

“Bye.” Sam sighs before making his way back to the room. Something felt off.

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

Dean grabs the barrel of his disassembled .44 revolver and takes care in cleaning it thoroughly while he sits on a wooden chair around the creaky dinner table in their motel room.

Sam sits on the couch going over notes from one of his classes from last month, before they got out for the summer holidays and is secretly trying to wonder what was scratching at the corner of his brain about Michael and his family.

Dean glances once more at his phone lying inconspicuously on the table beside his equipment, as if he could will his father to call.

Coming back to the situation with Dean and their father, Sam bites into the rubber of his pencil worriedly before looking over at Dean. “None of them are answering...” he states.

Dean shrugs nonchalantly. “Could be nothing.”

“Or it could be something.”

Sam can tell Dean’s upset by the way his movements get jerky and stiff; his shoulders get tight. He huffs out a breath. “Look, I’m worried about dad too...”

“Really, Sam?” Dean’s eyes are accusing, almost. “You act like I have no right to worry when I do half the time!”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to get upset. He puts the books down and turns to face his brother fully.  “I do not! Dean...!”

“Drop it, Sam.”

Sam storms over to his brother when he tries to ignore him and gets all up in his face. “We can’t get through to him and he told us to stay put. You worrying is making me even more worried, so stop it.”

“Get outta my face, Sam.”

“No. No! Say whatever’s on your mind Dean and get this over with so you can get over all this crap going on.”

Dean glares at his brother. “Oh, so now my feelings are crap, Sammy?”

Sam’s voice drops an octave and there’s plenty of remorse there. “Oh God, no, Dean...please, just talk to me?”

Dean finishes putting the gun back together, very aware that Sam’s just standing there, watching him, hoping he’ll want to talk but that’s not his thing. He pushes the chair back and walks to the kitchenette, ignoring Sam while he washes his hands with a dollop of the Ajax on the sink. He doesn’t want to let on that part of the reason he’s so antsy is because of their current case. He feels like they have a big target on their backs because of their relationship. Getting raped by Sam is a no brainer for him, and he doubts it’ll be scarring no matter how rough it gets for him. He’s quite use to varying degrees of rough play. _That_ he can get over with minimal work. One of them dying though, he’s scared shitless. Pile that on top of the huge ‘maybe dad’s dead’ internal saga and he figures he’s got too much reason to be pissed.

“Dean you’re...”

Sam is right there, his voice washing over Dean and before his Sam can get any further he turns around and cover his lips with his, sucking on Sam’s bottom lip until he lets him in, let him taste and ravage; take what belongs to him, what he needs to just _forget_ –if even for a little while. He crowds Sam until his back is against the wall on the right, then he grinds his clothed hard on into Sam’s and revel in the rumble of passion that erupts from Sam’s chest. There are gasps and groans when Dean breaks apart to pull his shirt over his head and Sam follows suit.

The articles are discarded at their feet.

“Oh fuck, Sam...” Dean moans, because only Sam can make everything alright like this, in this moment when the world reduces to only him. He sucks on the pulse point down Sam’s neck, tongue-fuck the dip in Sam’s jugular notch and works his way down to one of Sam’s nipple, sucking on it until it hardens on his tongue.

“God, Dean...” Sam hugs his brother’s head to his chest and kisses his crown before fisting his hand through his hair, inhaling the scent of gun oil, after-shave and _Dean_. The sensations makes Sam feel his muscles constricting almost painfully from need and when he begs his brother to fuck him, Dean falls to his knees and worship his cock with tongue and lips instead. Dean looks up at him the entire time and Sam throws his head back, scrabbling to grab on to Dean’s shoulder for support while thrusting his hip into his brother’s face, loving the way Dean’s mouth shape out to that perfect O to swallow him down.

Dean swallows his brother to the base, pulls back and then move his head in little jerky motions while his tongue lave around the head. Sam scrabbles for purchase as Dean’s skills almost bring him to his knees. Dean’s so hard he has one hand fisting his own cock and the other massaging Sam’s balls. Right before he knows his brother is about to release, he stands and pulls back suddenly, smirking when Sam grabs after him and almost stumbles.

“Dean...” Sam calls breathless, heaving from the effort to regain some composure.

“Get on the bed, Sam.” Dean loves that debauched, ‘its-all-about-the-fuck’ look Sam rocks so well and he guides his brother to the bed, shucks him out of his jeans and gets him to lie down with his head slightly hanging off the foot of said bed.

Sam’s eyes are smouldering and Dean shucks his own jeans before tugging on his stiff cock, then coming to stand a few inches from where Sam’s head is. Dean bends his knees, guide his dick to Sam’s mouth and Sam eagerly opens up to him, obeying his will when it comes to sex when all they do is hiss at each other any other time.

Sam almost gags from Dean’s enthusiasm, but his brother pulls back at the first sign of his distress and asks with concern, “Alright down there, baby boy?”

Sam nods his head. “Uh-huh.” Then he gets back to giving head, loving the sounds Dean makes and the things he does to let him know he’s thoroughly enjoying this.

With a groan at the sight of Sam taking him so expertly Dean leans over his brother, braces one hand on the bed and use the other to fist Sam’s pulsing, heated cock before engaging in a 69 that has him fucking into Sam’s mouth almost as hard as he’s swallowing his shaft. Sam’s legs start to tremble and Dean shifts his arms so he can pull both of Sam’s legs forward and wrap them under his arms. What he gets is Sam’s back curling in a way that leaves his ass wide and open and he uses his tongue, hot and slick and wet and licks at the twitching hole until Sam’s too far gone to remember this is suppose to be a two way deal. The noises Sam makes make Dean want to suck harder and stick his tongue deeper just cause...It’s hot as all fuck.

Sam whimpers when Dean eases him down and pulls back. Feeling the eroticism like a drug through his veins, he watches as Dean circle the bed, holds out a hand and shifts him until he has his head on a pillow and his body relaxed against the sheets. Dean runs calloused fingers softly over his skin, from his inner thigh to graze over his balls, then up his shaft that jerks at the feeling then up over his torso, chest, circling each nipple before pinching and then up to his lips, where Sam takes his eyes off his brother’s straining erection to look intensely into his lust clouded eyes while he sucks on the digits wantonly.

“Sam, Sammy...” Dean moans because, yeah, it can’t get no hotter than this right here, not even that time when the girl was a gymnast and she could bend her body in ways that Dean’ll never forget that had him coming like a sharp shooter. The sex was scorching, but his Sammy is mind blowing and he sets himself to lie down, kisses Sam all over and then set them up for a reverse cowgirl (boy, right?), because Dean loves to see how Sam’s hole, shiny and pink and slick just gobbles up his dick and holds tighter than a vice. His hands holds tight around Sam’s waist while Sam leans forward, bracing on Dean’s legs for leverage while they work together: Sam letting gravity pull him down and Dean helping to push him back up. It’s all about the view.

“Yeah, baby boy, just like that. Feels good to get fucked by big brother, doesn’t it? Feel me all up in there, stretching your hole wide, got you moaning like a slut cause I’m just _that_ good....”

Dean and his fucking ego, but who ever said Sam was rational during sex with Dean was a bad liar. He’s been building up to this moment and he’s reach a point where he can’t stave it off any longer. “Yeah, Dean, right there...right, uh, there!”

And Dean keens when Sam stops, grinding his hip down before his body shudders violently and he throws his head back, wailing out a moan that sounds like he’s dying of nerve wracking goodness. When Sam clenches around him tighter than before Dean feels the burning in his gut travel up his balls and shoot straight through his cock so he’s pumping Sam full of jizz. He pulls Sam back and holds on tight, even through the heat and the sweat and just rides out his orgasm, both of them breathing hard from the effort. Sam falls boneless on his side and Dean never lets go, chasing him until they’re spooned together, recovering from another good fuck.

Sam swallows thickly as his body cools down. He shortly falls asleep with the feel of one of Dean’s hand draped over his side and the other running softly through his hair while his voice, gravely and deep from the sex whispers about protecting and making him happy.

And damn if he isn’t happy as a flipping bird with Dean like this.

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

_“Please...daddy...”_

Sam slowly comes to awareness when his dream turns into the nightmare of a kid whimpering.

_“No...stop, it hurts dad...”_

The sound is faint, muffled by the walls or the haze of dream and Sam isn’t sure which is real at the moment. It’s a strange dream to be having, of a kid getting hurt and in his mind Sam ponders why, because he can’t really conjure up the images to go with the sound. Why would he be dreaming of such a thing?

The sound comes again, clear in the stillness of the night where nothing else stirs and Sam’s eyes fly wide open. That is definitely _not_ a dream. Dean is still draped over him, sound asleep and Sam squeezes his hand gently. He can tell Dean is wide awake and alert by that point, listening out for a potential threat.

“Sammy?”

“I heard something, Dean.”

Sam creeps out of bed and tip toe to the adjacent wall. He puts his ears against the old, fading wallpaper and listens. It’s even more faint this time.

“Sam.” Dean whispers in the darkness of the room.

Sam’s heart palpitates as he imagines what’s going on. Dean turns on the lamp by the bed and he grabs his clothes off the floor.

“Get your gun, get dressed, something’s wrong next door.”

“What, what is it?” Dean asks, even while he’s moving on auto-pilot to get his shit together.

Sam grabs the bottle of holy water, a small bag of salt from the kitchenette and a knife. “I think whatever it is, is next door.”

Sam cocks his head to the wall and Dean looks shocked. “You mean, there’s an actual incestuous couple in there? God, I hope it’s not a mother and son again...”

Sam doesn’t feel the need to mess around. “It’s worse.”

 _Michael, Sean...What the hell?_ Sam thinks as they move towards the door.

The air outside is crisp, sharp with the coldness of too-early-in-the-morning and dewy sego lily and pine cones. Dean and Sam creep as silently as possible next door, making sure to move as stealthy as possible across the aging wood of the floor. Nobody is out this time of the morning and Dean jimmys the lock until the door swings softly open. They move as stealthily as possible inside, even though the place is quite and the shadows dance across the floorboard from the trees outside that triggers Dean into remembering the Shtriga that almost kills Sam as a kid and make his father side-eye him for a month and a half.

Sam makes a bee-line for the bedroom and gasps at what he sees; Max, slowly moving on top of Sean, between his legs, while Michael is tied up and out cold on the floor; seemingly unhurt since his clothes is still intact.

Even with company Max looks so peaceful and calm, so _normal_ , it makes Sam sick to his stomach.

“Sam...” Max drawls sweetly before turning his head. Sam promptly dumps the holy water in his face. Nothing.

“Christo.” Still nothing. “Not a demon.” Dean’s revolver comes into view as he trains it on the man, edging closer from behind Sam.

“Get the fuck off him or I swear I’ll shoot.” Dean grits his teeth, tense and trigger happy and Max sighs before pulling out slowly, making a show of how delightful he finds the act. Dean wants to gag.

Max looks to Sean’s unconscious form and Michael, smiling serenely.

“It’s not a demon, Dean.”

“Thanks, captain obvious.” Dean answers irately. Max is human and despite what he was doing, he doubts blowing the man’s brains out before his kid would get him any browny points.

Max just stands there, hanging free with blood and come on his erection and Sam wants to order Dean to shoot, but knows he can’t.

“Sam, Sam, Sam...everybody else was just an appetizer until I get to you.”

Dean is metres away; close enough to hit bull’s eyes and far enough to avoid close range attacks. His hackles starts to rise because this thing knows and wants Sam. It just confirms one of his worst fears. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Sam watches as Max regards Dean with a dismissive chuckle before turning back to him. He still has his knife held in the defensive, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he feels a bit curious too.

“Sam...incest and a dormant power that can keep me fed for centuries. You’re blood is so tainted with the sweetness of the type of sin I crave that you’re the ultimate prize, Sam.”

“Dormant power, what?” Sam asks in confusion. His fingers tighten on the knife.

Dean is tense, putting himself in the middle between Sam and whatever’s taken over Max’s body because keeping Sammy safe is his main priority, but he knows keeping the thing talking and figuring out what it is will help them kill it. So he stands and watches, waits for the opportune time to strike.

“Bullshit Sam, this thing’s just yanking your chain...”

Max’s smile transforms into a smirk.

“Oh, I’m not yanking any chain Dean, but I must thank you for, you know, loving to fuck him so much it’s almost a physical thing around you both. I can taste it in the air like honey on my tongue.” A tongue snakes out to taste the air and retract before a blessed out look befalls Max. “And our branch of the Satyr lineage, which is a hybrid of a Satyr and succubus, have waited so long for a soul like yours, Samuel Winchester.”

Dean’s itching to move, to just grab Sam and get the hell outta Dodge, but he’s rooted to the spot, and realizes belatedly that it’s not _only_ because of fear for Sam.

“Sammy?” Dean calls fretfully when Max just walk right on past him, over to Sam, who apparently can’t move either.

“Dean, I can’t move.” Sam’s afraid, but he heard what Max had said and he remembers the lore he’d read on Satyr and Succubus’. The succubus aspect would explain the sexually part of the attacks and Satyr aspect would explain the content since Satyrs are  thought to be merry creatures.

“You know, this is what happens when a Satyr beds a succubus, we have the best of both worlds.” The creature using Max’s face smirks wickedly while approaching Sam.

“Keep calm, Sam.” Dean realizes he’s literally rooted to the spot, but the fear of what’s going on behind his back overwhelms him incredibly and he tries to will himself to move, to turn around and shoot but nothing happens.

Sam just stands there –because he has no other choice, obviously- and watch fretfully as Max approaches. He delves deeper into the lore on the hybrid creature and if memory serves him right, a Satyr can be killed with a thyrsus, a staff of giant fennel, dipped in lamb’s blood. A succubus on the other hand can only be banished with a spell.

Max’s look of total indifference doesn’t change and he smiles wickedly when he’s standing mere inches from Sam. Max tilts his face up to look into his eyes before licking across his right jaw.

“Mmmm, so sweet...”

“Sam!” Dean sounds panicked and angry.

And then Sam feels Max’s lips on his, pushing past his lips and kissing him until something hot like a brand burns through his throat down to his stomach to settle through each and every nerve ending in his body. He wants to scream but it’s swallowed by the kiss, and through the pain and the anguish he realizes he’s reduced to a little dark bubble in his mind; trapped.

Max falls to the floor unconscious.

_“I’ll eat your soul from the inside out, Samuel, and with it the power of Abel’s descendants.”_

Sam can feel it, a sudden wave of contentment like coming home and getting a treat when he was a kid and knowing everything was right with the world. He wants to scream and shout, fight against the darkness but nothing works and he feels himself moving without consent. His legs carry him to stand before Dean, whose eyes are searching and angry, jaws hard. He wants his brother so bad, wants him to make this go away.

_“I’ll give him to you.”_

Sam doesn’t know when he’d lean in to kiss Dean, but he wants it to stop because he feels a power spike through him at the touch. Dean knows, he somehow knows that this isn’t Sam because he fights against the touch, tries to back away but Sam realizes his body is incredibly strong and Dean is pinned.

Sam is horrified when the Satyr uses his body to push Dean against the wall, turn him around and kick his legs apart.

“Sam...?”

Sam can tell Dean is pleading to him and not whatever it is that’s using his body. He figures Dean is still not able to move, or else he wouldn’t be so complacent up against the wall.

“Mmmm, I just need to take this from you Dean, then the circle of Sam’s soul will be complete and I can take it home with me to feast on like all the others.”

Dean grunts and Sam can feel the taste of sweat and fear on his brother as his tongue licks over the back of Dean’s neck while his body presses him into the wall. It doesn’t help that he can feel how hard he is and how his body thrums with some bone deep need, an ache like this _must_ happen. He wants to talk, but the closed off bubble is like a restraint and all he can do is watch as his brother is subjugated to the abuse. Then his hands fumble quickly to open his fly and expose his rock hard shaft. With his fingers snagged in the waist of Dean’s jeans, the fabrics are simply pushed down under his ass to reveal his brother’s naked backside. A sick, twisted feeling churns in Sam’s stomach when the creature squeezes precome out the tip, then slam home without any sort of forewarning. He can feel his body lurch and the pain of such a dry fuck rubbing his dick raw and listen in horrified silence as Dean tries his best to hold back a scream, barely managing to do so.

_“Oh God, stop it! Stop doing that to him!”_

The words are like an echo to Sam in his own mind and he feels as violated as Dean is. Dean’s knuckles turns white from the strain and Sam wants to gag. When his eyes looks down and he sees the blood on his dick as it pulls back...

“Hold it in, Sam, I can make you choke on your vomit.”

Sam calls bullshit, because this thing won’t kill him until it gets what it wants...

“Sam, Sammy...I’m alright,” Dean manages through clenched teeth and painful grunts and Sam tries his best to believe, even if he can’t see how. He closes his eyes and wills himself to wake from his nightmare, but nothing happens when he opens them. He suddenly starts to realize there is a distant sound, a sort of throbbing hum while his body takes from his brother what was never given. He didn’t want to feel arousal by Dean’s rape, but the more pleasure sang through his body, the more the internal pressure increases inside his bubble and his heart hammers frantically in his chest. It feels like his very soul is being siphoned out of him and it mixes with the pleasure to hurt in a way unimaginable.

“God...” Dean groans and Sam can see his brother is trying his best to hold on, to ride out the pain and the hurt from that only mixes with the pressure of his ordeal. He can feel his cock starting to swell, his balls tightening in inevitable release. He can feel the creature’s pleasure even though it keeps hurting him and he fears what will happen to him once his body releases.

Suddenly, over the pain of his soul being stolen, there is a building noise inside his head, like something inside him wants release, to be let out and he can’t stop it. Something powerful spikes through his body suddenly, blinding him with an intense flash of yellow and he can feel more than see it; yellow tendrils of power grabs the essence of the creature inside him and tears it apart, ripping it in two, then tearing it to pieces inside his body.  He blacks out shortly after, falling into the darkness of the combined attacks.

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

Dean doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. One moment he’s held under a compulsion to stay still while being violated and the next, Sam’s body stills before falling to the floor in a heap. Flinching at the noise, he turns around to see his brother on the floor out cold. He doesn’t hesitate, falling to his knees to cradle Sam’s head in his lap, even if the move causes his bruised body to protest with severe pain.

“Sam...?” Dean puts a hand under his brother’s nose, then feel for a pulse, releasing a breath he didn’t notice he was holding when he realizes Sam is still breathing; his pulse strong and regular.

“Sammy, come on, wake up.” Dean looks around at Max and his sons, making sure their chests rise and fall before dragging Sam out of the room. It’s a good thing they are just a room apart because Dean wants to avoid being seen at all cost. When he opens the front door and steps outside, the sun is barely peaking orange rays over the adjacent hillside and while there is sign of people up, no-one is out of their rooms yet.

Dean put Sam in bed, making sure he’s still breathing and then call an ambulance to cover the room next door and its occupants. He also calls the police, because even though Sam is young he’s far from eleven years old and that shit is fucked up right there. Yeah, call him a hypocrite but it’s the truth. When he’s through he looks at his sleeping brother, who groans before turning on his side. Still alive; good. He runs a hand softly through his brother’s mop of chestnut coloured hair, glad this is over and wondering how it ended. The fear of thinking he’ll lose Sam to a heart attack is still present, even if it is lessening slowly. Sam is safe and back in his arms and that’s all that matters, not even the violation which he admits to himself is all sort of messed up can break that little bubble of relief.

He moves gingerly to the bathroom and carefully removes his clothes, putting the bloody items in a bag to be tossed. No way he’s letting dad come back to find that, and there’s no way he’ll delve into too much details about this case once his father finds out, and he will find out because he always wants to know what they’ve been doing when he’s away and once he orders Dean to talk –because he can’t order Sam to do it- Dean will spill like an overturn milk carton. He only prays they’ll be able to keep certain details between him and Sam. He showers, grabs the medicine basket from under sink and fix himself as best as possible while the approaching sounds of sirens fill the mostly quite complex.

~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~SPN~*~

Sam wakes with a groan the next morning. His head pounds and his body hurt, like one of the few times he ever gets drunk with his brother, only worse. He doesn’t open his eyes because it feels like too much work, and the hand he raises to rub at his forehead make everything thrum a little worse.

“Hey, Sammy, you look like shit.”

Dean’s voice sounds like a blaring horn from so close. “Ugh, Dean, what happened?”

“Good question Sammy, I’ve wanted to ask you that from yesterday.”

Sam opens his eyes and glares blearily at Dean when his brother nudges him. He takes the proffered acetaminophen and room temperature water and gulps both down greedily. He flops back down on the bed, close his eyes and sighs tiredly.

Dean puts the glass down at his feet and look at Sam closely, who looks worse for wear but otherwise alright.

“So, care to talk about it, Sam?”

There is an edge to Dean’s voice and Sam open one eye to peek at him, realizing that his lips are pursed and his jaw’s set in a hard line. He shifts to a more comfortable position before looking at his brother. “Talk about what, Dean?”

Dean looks pinched when he asks. “How did you get rid of the thing inside you? What did it mean you have dormant powers and what the hell are we still doing here? What if it has family looking for it and they want you too?”

Sam expects this, Dean always go terminator whenever anything happens to him, no matter how small. “Dean...I’m alright, and we have to wait on dad here, he’ll flip if he comes back to find out we left without him and he’ll kill us when we have to explain why...”

Dean’s barely appeased by Sam’s argument, but Sam’s right about their father so he allows that to calm him a bit. He’s glad they’re on the same page about some things at least.

“You still haven’t answered my question about what the thing said, Sam. Can you do Jedi mind tricks all of a sudden?”

Sam is thrown off guard that Dean is serious about this. “Dude, you’ve known me your whole life and have I ever been able to bend a spoon or read minds or levitate tables?”

Dean knows he shouldn’t have taken what the creature said to heart, more than likely it lied about Sam anyway. He felt sheepish about even believing it for a second. He crossed his arms across his chest and huffs out a breath. “Whatever.”

Sam wants to smile at Dean’s dismissive attitude, because it proves he’s effectively managing to distract Dean from making this solely about Sam. But Sam still remembers vividly what he’d done to Dean and the guilt suddenly starts clawing its way through his stomach up to his throat. He averts his brother’s eyes and then fidgets before stuttering out. “Um, h...how are you feeling, Dean?”

Dean can tell something’s wrong, and from Sam’s disposition he knows it isn’t going to be anything good; a damn chick flick moment. His face contorts into a frown. “I’m good, Sam. What’s the matter?”

Sam can feel the oncoming of tears burning his eyes and he tries his hardest to hold it back. He violated his brother in the worst way possible and it makes him feel lower than dirt. How could he do that to his brother?

Dean straightens before watching his brother intently. Something’s definitely wrong. “What’s going through that thick skull of yours, Sammy?”

Sam starts playing with his fingers and tries to shy away from him, and that’s when it hits Dean. “Oh no, you don’t! Sammy, come here.”

Dean is on the bed in a flash, trying to hug Sam and Sam tries to fight him off. How can Dean even stand to be so close to him after what he’d done? “Dean, no! Get off!”

“Shhh, listen man, it wasn’t you, was that damn thing using your body...”

Sam whimpers when the look of pain on Dean’s face and the way his muscle tensed under the assault came back to him. It was his body, his dick tearing into Dean’s ass so of course he did it. “Dean, I...”

Sam slumps into Dean’s arms when words fail him, trying hard to hold back his grief and Dean hugs him close, wrapping both arms tightly around Sam before planting a kiss to his crown. “No, not I, _it_ , Sam. You wouldn’t hurt me, we both know that. Stop blaming yourself or I swear I’ll kick your teeth in.”

“Dean...” Sam sobbed brokenly.

“I swear I don’t blame you Sam, so don’t blame yourself. Besides, I’m learning to sit just fine on my ass right now even though yesterday it was a literal pain in the ass to do.”

At that Sam laughs. Trust Dean to turn a serious enough topic into a joke. But Sam hopes his brother is true to his words and he doesn’t blame him for what happened. Deep down he knows Dean doesn’t, but the self doubt just depreciates his self worth a little bit until Dean’s reassurance, and now he feels a whole lot better.

 "Jerk."

 "Bitch."


End file.
